Happy Birthday To Me
by C.D.Meiss
Summary: Neverland ends up at Russia's house, curled up with someone she never expected to even talk to. And it just so happens to be his birthday. Oneshot. 2p!Hetaliaverse.


**A/N:** I really wanted to get this done and posted for Canada's birthday, but my silly little procrastination illness kicked in and I'm half an hour late. Better late than never, right? As always, please Read, Review, and Enjoy.

_C.D.M._

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Hetalia (2p or not) or The Purge. I do own this human version of Neverland.

* * *

Knocking on the huge black front door was kind of awkward for me, but this whole night was going to be awkward. Hopefully in a good way, if that's even possible. The door remained shut even though I could hear the thumping of music and the obnoxious shouting of what seemed to be twenty countries.

My ridiculous uncle Oliver had invited me along to Russia's house to play video games (and probably watch a horror movie, knowing Russia). Being so bored that I couldn't think of a good reason to refuse, I told him I'd be along in a while. And then he'd literally skipped out of the room. I swear that man had to be a fairy in his past life.

So apparently while I had been musing over my morning, Nikolai himself had come to the door and was staring silently at me with his big red eyes. Creepy.

We had a staring match for a moment before the huge blonde man coughed slightly. He had been analyzing me, scanning me for anything he could use to manipulate me in the future. Obviously, since I carried nothing out of the ordinary, he had coughed out of disinterest. I rolled my eyes and took a step forward.

"Gonna let me in, Nikki?" His eyes flashed with hatred but he stepped out of the way nonetheless. "Thanks, buddy." Clapping him on the shoulder a little roughly, I made my way down the stairs and into the 'Nerd Dungeon.'

Nikolai Braginski's basement could be described in a word as "Paradise" to any hardcore gamer nerd, and my circle of aquaintences certainly fell into that category. There was a wall practically hidden by a giant t.v. that was currently blasting an episode of _Burn Notice_. The desk by the stairs was crowded with computers, monitor screens, and two different keyboards. Scattered where they could fit was an Xbox360, a PS4, a Wii console, and a GameCube, plus all of the paraphernalia that accompanied these things. Drowning in wires, the room looked like a scene from a cyberpunk-sci-fi movie.

And it was glorious.

I waved to the people who shouted at me and scanned the room, locking onto a friendly (ish) face. Spain grinned toothily as I sat on the arm of his huge leather chair, leaning my back against the brick fireplace. I punched him in the arm. "Yo, Andres, what's up?"

He gave me a nod and gestured to the t.v. "_Burn Notice_, Jenny. The greatest show _en el mundo._"

Glancing at the screen I shrugged. "Eh, but it's so predictable, you know? It's just like every other crime show on air."

The Spaniard looked briefly appalled. "_Ay_, no! _Es muy fantastico! _How could you say that?"

"You only like it because it's set in Mee-ah-mee," I trilled in his accent, crossing my arms. I was bored, again.

Andres seemed to read my thoughts for I felt a warm hand creep over my knee. "Are you, ah, _bored_, _cariño_?" His low, honeyed tone and burning green eyes made me giggle.

"Not _that _kind of bored, Andres, but nice try."

He smirked and licked his teeth creepily at me. "Some other time then, _sí_?"

I laughed sarcastically again. "Whatever you say, Andres." I shook my head and focused on the newest episode, glad for distraction.

I'd always found the Spanish country attractive, but I never thought we would do well together. Sure, we flirted shamelessly, but I was practically an imaginary country. Like Prussia, it was only the people who believed in me that kept me alive. At first it was hard, but after a while I just got used to the constant, maddening fear of disappearing. Mixing that instability with the volatile Spaniard would be sure to result in something bad happening.

If you can't tell, I'm a little lonely. Haha, Neverland, lonely. It's laughable, honestly. Andres announced loudly that he had to leave because of something that had to do with South Italy, and I slid into his spot in the chair. Russia and Germany had thrown some matresses on the floor and everyone was settled in for a movie.

"What are we watching?" I called to the room. I was ignored.

Upstairs, there was a loud swearing that sounded like America. Sure enough, the brunette and his blonde brother tromped down the stairs and and flopped onto the matress. America moaned and held his face as I extended the footrest on the chair. "What'd you do this time, Al?" I called.

"That tomato-eating moron opened the door into my freaking face!"

Snickers rippled through the room and he waved impatiently. "What are we watching?"

A frown creased my brow. "That's what I've been asking for fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, well, no one listens to you, Blood-Bath!" My uncle chirped from the corner of the couch, stuffing his face with marshmallows.

Chucking a small pillow at him, I angrily crossed my arms. "Don't call me that, Ollie." The name brought back all kinds of terrible memories from my pirate-ah, excuse me, _privateer_ days with England. He would never let it go.

A pout crossed his countenance and America barked out a laugh. "Blood-Bath? Creepy name. That's...kinda hot." His eyebrows wiggled suggestively. I coughed awkwardly and turned away.

"So, we watching this movie or what?"

"Did we even pick one?" Germany asked quietly, draping his arm around Feliciana's shoulder. The brunette Italian smirked up at him, scooching away just to irk him.

Allan tossed his aviators on an end table and began perusing Nikolai's extensive horror movie collection, calling out titles as he went. "_The Grudge_, nah seen that like a million times..._The Ring_..._Shutter Island_-is that even a horror movie?" After a few minutes he whipped out a new DVD case, waving it in Russia's face. "Dude let's watch this. You've never even opened it."

The hulking man took the case, peering at the title in the dim light. "_Zhe Purge_? I did not know I owned zhis one..." He suddenly chucked it at Francois, who was laying on his back, texting. The DVD bounced off his stomach and he cried out in pain.

"_Mon Dieu! _What ze heck, Nikolai?"

"Put it in..." The Russian whispered, glowering down at the bearded blonde. France shot him a withering look but did as he was told.

I watched this interaction with a bland expression, tired of waiting for a choice to be made. "Took you all long enough." Again, I was ignored. Not that I truly expected anything, but even a glance of recognition would have been nice. Ah, the life of an imaginary country. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Prussia around anywhere. A glance at my watch told me that it was only nine o'clock; Gilbert didn't usually come out of his house until at least ten-thirty at night.

The chattering countries quieted down slightly as America shouted at them all to shut up, but it wasn't until the opening credits that anyone really stopped talking. I sank into the soft black leather of the chair as a placid scene of a wealthy neighborhood scrolled by. I could tell by the ridiculously over-cute music that this was going to be a lame-but-still-terrifying movie.

Looking around, I noticed that everyone was snuggling with someone else. A bitter feeling welled up in my stomach as I realized that I would be alone once again. Germany was in a chair across the room and had his arm slung around Italy's shoulders; France and England were curled together on one end of the couch; America, Russia, and China had crammed onto the other end; and the Nordics, Japan, and Canada had formed a bro-pile on the matress on the floor. And I was alone, huddling with invisible self in the middle of the huge lounger.

After about half an hour, I shivered and nearly leapt out of the chair as I felt someone poke my foot. Matthieu's amethyst eyes blinked lazily up at me, his arm slung across the end of the foot rest. "Ey."

I frowned, leaning forward. "What do you want?" I figured he was going to make some sly and stupid comment about my nickname too, or ask why I decided to colour my hair lilac today. Everyone always questioned my hair colours, and would never accept the simple fact that I just felt like having it change on a weekly basis.

Anyway. He blinked up at me, big deal. But he stood up and brushed invisible dirt off his pants, saying, "Got 'ny room in that huge chair up there?"

"I suppose..." I shrugged and made room for him, pressing my right shoulder into the arm of the chair and thinking as thinly as possible. He crawled up onto the chair, wedged his shoulders against mine and the left arm of the chair, and stretched out. Trying to protect my chest from his elbows, I crossed my arms and tried to dive farther into the side of the chair.

It was awkward. _Really_ awkward. "This is a little painful," Canada muttered.

My eyes flashed to the ceiling, . "Well, it's your own fault."

"I was lonely..."

There was a quiet moment as a creepy doll welded onto a tank-track zipped across the screen. "Me too."

* * *

A little while passed, and I started to get a little uncomfortable. My foot had fallen asleep from the awkward position it was in, and my arms had begun to ache from being crossed for so long. Breathing softly beside me, the blonde shifted suddenly.

"Ey, this is getting to be really uncomfortable. Sit up for a second, eh?" It wasn't really a request, seeing as he kind of heaved my small frame into the air and forcefully slipped his arm behind my head. "There."

I craned my neck and glared up at him. "What are you doing?" My ears were beginning to burn as he curled his arm around me and rolled me onto my side. My hands had nowhere to go but lay on his warm, flannel-covered chest.

Since the top of my head was pressed into the crook of his neck, I could feel him smirk into my hair. "Isn't it more comfortable this way?" The strong scent of maple-flavoured cigars coiled around my senses.

"Ugh..." I sighed, turning back to the movie. I wouldn't admit it, but it was more comfortable. The Canadian was warm and strong, smelling of burnt wood and maple syrup. His arm felt rather nice, wrapped around my torso with his hand resting on my shoulder. Within a few minutes we were even breathing in tandem, his chest rising and falling in time with mine.

And suddenly, I didn't feel so lonely.

* * *

The Purge was halfway over by now, and there were a few characters on the screen that confused me. "Matthieu, where did they come from?"

I felt him shrug beneath me. "They've been there the whole time."

"Huh. I must have missed their intro. What's the creepy guy's name?"

A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest and past my shoulder. "The guy who looks like Francois? He doesn't have a name."

The aforementioned Frenchie bolted into a sitting position angrily beside England, but calmed way the heck down when he saw the position Canada and I were in. A sly smirk wormed it's way across his stubbled face and I groaned. "Well, well, leetle bruzzer. Getting cozy wiz Neverland, hm?"

The blonde waved the hand that was on my shoulder at him. "Shove off, Francey-pants."

"Oh, honhonhon~ you two look so cute togezzer. Are you going to...ah," His golden eyebrows rose into his hairline. "You know?" A wink wrinkled one side of his face and I could feel a blush creeping up my neck.

"No, France. Lay down," I growled, sitting up a little. I could tell my bright, mismatched eyes produced the desired effect because he shrank back slightly and nestled down into the couch once more.

Matthieu breathed slightly on my ear. "How did you...?" I simply glanced up at him, silent and frowning again. France was an idiot. I saw Matthieu visibly recoil as I blinked up at him, knowing that my eyes probably scared him a little, too. I had inherited my uncle's odd, bi-coloured lavender and blue eye in my left, and my right was a deep bloodred. Like America's, I had always supposed.

The Canadian bent his neck down, peered into my face in the darkness. "That...is fricken weird." He pulled back, a half-smile easing onto his lips. "I like them."

"Thanks, I guess..." Heat crawled into my cheeks. "People always says they creep them out. It's not my fault though!"

"Well, people are morons," He shrugged, adjusting his arm to a place lower on my back. "I think they're cool; nothing to be ashamed about."

"Hey dudes!" America called angrily from the end of the couch closest to us. "Shut up and watch the movie or make out already!"

Canada let out a short growl, pelting his brother with a paper cup. "You shut up, you're the one who's yelling. And mind your own business, idiot."

I covered my face with my hands, hiding my ridiculous and unneccesary blush. "Allan...why do you have to be so creepy." The music from the t.v. made me shiver hard and make a little _eep_ noise. Matthieu smirked and pulled me further onto his chest, forcing me to bury my face in his chest.

"I love how embarrassed and scared you get. It's fricken cute."

He received a punch to his stomach. "Hush, you."

"I'm just sayin'."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna hear it, Maple-Boy."

"Whatever you say, Make-Believe."

"It's Neverland."

"I know."

* * *

The entire room burst into laughter as the mom in the movie smashed her bloodthirsty neighbor's face into her glass dining room table. The movie had pretty much ended, and people were starting to trickle off. An odd feeling in my chest made me linger in Canada's arms for a moment or so longer as the lights were flicked on. The blinding glow forced me to bury my face into his shoulder. "Mmn...too bright."

Matthieu chuckled. "It's not so bad..." My stomach lurched and a ripple of goosebumps travelled up my arms as I felt his fingers rub a small circle into my shoulder. The slow movement lit a warmth within me that I had never felt before, causing me to clench my fists and breath his scent in deeply. I could hear his heart through his shirt, and it sounded so calm and the circling was so soothing that I almost fell asleep.

But then my phone buzzed in my pocket, telling me that my twin sister was beginning to panic. A growl rose from the depths of my throat as I pushed myself up and fished it out, reading her frantic text.

_where R U? ComE HOME now, Now1!_

I rolled my eyes and cracked my neck, my hand still fisted on Canada's plaid shirt. "My sister is nuts. I have to go home before she injures herself."

A small smirk played in the corners of his mouth. "Want me to take you?"

"Uh..." I flushed at his low tone, glancing at Oliver furtively. "I think Ollie is my ride. Right?" I kicked his foot with mine.

My fellow Brit shrugged, giggling. "Nope! I decided to spend the night here! Find your own ride, dolly. Or better yet, you drive her home!" He grinned widely at Canada. "It is your birthday, after all."

Matthieu sat up and began lacing up his boots as I stuffed my feet into mine. "What kinda sense does that make, eh? But yeah, I'll take her home."

I paused mid-stretch, raising an eyebrow. "It's your birthday, Matthieu? Why didn't you say anything?"

His answer was simple; "I was busy thinking about other things." With a flip of his ponytail, he was headed towards the stairs. "Come on then. See ya, Oliver, Allan."

The pair on the couch waved as I nimbly leapt over the pile of Nordics in the middle of the floor. "Bye, guys."

* * *

Canada's truck looked like it had been dragged through a sawmill backwards and rattled just about as much, so the ride back to my and Wonderland's house was rather lacking in conversation. Once on my porch, however, I was able to ask the odd question that had been irritating me all night.

"Mattie, why do you smell like syrup and cigar smoke?" I folded my arms and leaned against the brick wall at the end of my driveway.

He cocked his head, looking interested. "You called me Mattie just now."

"Yeah? And?"

"You've never done that before."

Fighting a blush, I said sweetly, "Answer my question, _Matthieu_."

The blonde shrugged. "I dip my cigars in maple syrup before I smoke them." With a pause, he leaned forward. "Why? You like it?"

I pushed his shoulder. "Don't be stupid. I was just wondering."

"So, you _do _like it." This man was insufferable. Absolutely maddening.

"I didn't _say _that, Maple-Boy." I watched, annoyed, as he copied my stance and leaned against the opposite wall. He didn't look like he was about to leave any time soon. "What do you want now?"

He flashed me a grin. "My present."

"What? I don't have any present."

"And why not? It _is _my birthday after all." Jackknifing off the wall, he took a step nearer to me.

"Yeah, well, my apologies. I don't have a gift for you," I said with pseudo-remorse, spreading my hands out to show their emptiness.

With another long step, he was rather close. "Then I'll just have to take something of yours."

My heart thudding in my ears, I attempted to remain calm. Ha. "What are you on about? You can't take what-" Just like that, I was silenced by his mouth. My stomach flipped and he pulled me to him by the waist. If he smelled like syrup before, the sweetness was amplified by hundreds as his mouth met mine.

Drawing away, I looked up at him in confusion. "Matthieu...?"

His smirk made my oxygen-starved brain spin. "Nah, call me Mattie. It is my birthday after all, and I think you're the best present I've gotten so far."

My thoughts chased each other wildly across my mind. He was just as invisible as I am. He noticed me all the time. Never made fun of me like the others. And he tasted like maple syrup for crying out loud. A clipped laugh popped out past my lips and I twirled his silky ponytail around my finger.

"This is true," I smiled, adding, "Mattie."

Stealing another kiss, he winked down at me. "Happy birthday to me."


End file.
